Resurrection
by Atomix330
Summary: James Bond isn't the only one with a hobby. Guess who is back... More to follow soon. All credit for the characters belongs to Eon Films and Ian Fleming
1. Prologue

**Ressurection – Prologue**

_A/N: This is the start of something. Enjoy._

* * *

He thinks he recognises the woman four rows in front. He recognises the shape of her shoulders, the elegant curve of her neck, the sights and the smells. He remembers meeting her on that train to the casino.

"_I'm the money,"_ she said.

"_Every penny of it,"_ he had remarked in return.

He also remembers comforting her in a shower in Montenegro, eating breakfast with her on the banks of Lake Como and then watching her drown herself in a lift in the basement of a collapsed Venetian mansion some 5 years previously. He remembers pulling her lifeless body from the water then his vain attempts to give CPR. He remembers the officials who came to take the body away and then M's phone call.

"_..I'm sure hoped they'd let her live. But she must have known she was going to her death."_

Followed by him saying; _"…the bitch is dead."_

He hears some anonymous official doing a reading. Quoting Tennyson; "We are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are — one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will, to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

He smiles slightly at the irony within the poem. At least this isn't his funeral. It's his old boss' – M – Olivia Mansfield. M was stabbed by a rogue agent. Mallory is in charge now. He is 'M' and they've nearly finished the repairs at Vauxhall Cross.

He didn't go to her funeral, he didn't even know whether she had a funeral. He didn't know where the body was buried. Maybe it was dumped? Eaten by the fish at the bottom of a Venetian canal, adding to the aquatic food chain.

He remembers catching up with Yusef – her ex-boyfriend. Yusef had already moved onto new conquests – a pretty young thing from Canadian intelligence but he doesn't remember her name. He held his nerve and he didn't shoot him, much to everyone's surprise, including his own. Yusef is now serving life behind bars, he'll never know freedom again. She didn't know freedom from the day she met the bastard.

The fact of her treachery is painful. All the time forced to work for the other side. She had summed it up over that first dinner in the dining car on the way to Montenegro – _"…if you lose, our government will have directly financed terrorism_."He hadn't lost, but she had stolen the victory from him. To the extent where he was asking; what's the point? She was an unwilling pawn in a covert game of chess.

She must have come to pay her respects to the late M. But it's impossible. She's dead. He watched her die. He watched her push him away as he tried to save her. He watched her drown that day in Venice. But he thinks he sees her four rows in front, clad in black. Looking as elegant as the day they met on the train to Montenegro.

He loses sight of her at the end of the service. Vesper Lynd simply vanishes from the London church yard. Vanishes into the summer sun. It was definitely her, but Bond doesn't believe it. She is dead. Dead. But then maybe he isn't the only one with a hobby.

He knows his: resurrection.

* * *

_A/N: My first Bond fanfic. Please review. More to come shortly._


	2. Chapter 1 - Lunch Will Be Delayed

**Resurrection – Chapter 1 – Lunch Will Be Delayed**

_A/N: …and here is chapter 1. Thanks goes to Sarah (guest) for reviewing the prologue._

* * *

Mary Goodnight had been at Vauxhall Cross for six months. She had been permanently transferred from GCHQ's 'doughnut' in Cheltenham after four years there to work in the 'Double-O' section at Six. She was one of nine secretaries in the section, although her job description would be better suited to 'personal assistant'. She had been assigned to Agent 007 – James Bond; an Eton old-boy, Oxford graduate, ex-SBS, Gulf War veteran and very handsome. In a warrior-like way. Had he not been ten or fifteen years older than her, Mary might have dated him. As it happened, she was currently single – her move to London had dashed the chance of a relationship with the analyst from Cheltenham going any further. Bond had quite a way with the ladies, she had read in his file that he had nearly a dozen relationships with female operatives, both friend and foe, at home and abroad – although mainly abroad. All of them had ended within months if not weeks.

Bond had been ordered to stay in the UK by Gareth Mallory – M. Her agent was overseeing any business conducted by the Double-O section within the British Isles. She had heard a rumour on the office grape vine that Bond had in fact requested the job from M which was surprising considering that the past two years had been the quietest in 007's career. That was since the incident at Skyfall. Mary had read vague snippets of information in Bond's heavily redacted file but in essentials the incident had led to the death of a cyber-terrorist and Mallory's predecessor: Olivia Mansfield. Bond hadn't left the country since.

However Bond did advise the other agents within the section before they went out on operations. He was currently sat in his office on the side of the Double-O section's bullpen on the eighth floor of MI6's Headquarters in deep conversation with 003 before his posting to the Middle East. Most of this advice consisted of survival tactics and avoiding simple mistakes as he knew that every man with Double-O status was proficient weapons and combat expert. This was 003's first posting into an area Bond knew well, having fought there in the nineties and been on operations later with Six.

Each secretary within the section over time, began to grow attached to the agent they were assigned, to the extent that they would often be found fussing over their charges about the smallest things – straightening their ties before meetings with M, arranging their laundry, booking restaurant tables in the West End or popping out to do their grocery shopping in the Sainsbury's across the road as well as doing the ordinary duties such as bringing in a cup of tea or coffee ever so often and filing the paperwork . In turn the agents spoiled them ever so slightly in return, sometimes it was chocolate or perfume or meal out at somewhere. But it could be completely mundane such as a simple lift home after a tedious day at the office – Bond had already done this for her three times in his Aston Martin DB9 when she had been too tired to drive – he even gave her a lift back in in the morning. However with Bond, such favours were always accompanied by dinner, usually at the little restaurant in Kensington he frequented. Mary had been reluctant at first but he had behaved like a perfect gentleman and she had to concede that he had good taste – the food was delicious and far better than some of the stuff served at fancier restaurants in Mayfair or the West End. Mary had become quite fond of Bond.

* * *

When Bond had got up that morning at about half past five, he had followed his normal routine. Wake-up, get-up, coffee, jog to the gym, spend an hour there, jog back, shower, eat breakfast whilst listening to John Humphreys interrogate some imbecile politician on BBC Radio Four and then dress for work. He always drove to work from his apartment in Chelsea. Despite it being central London with its congestion charge and frequent congestion, he preferred it to public transport. The tube was always packed during rush hour as were the buses and getting a taxi would have been too much hassle. By driving he could sit in relative comfort in a cocoon of glass, aluminium and leather and listen to Radio Four or just enjoy complete silence but for the low growl of the Aston's V12 engine.

He did love his car, a dark metallic grey DB9, but in London there was nowhere to experience its full potential so at weekends, Bond was often found at the wheel of the graceful machine roaring along country lanes in the Home Counties and further afield, stopping in village pubs to eat or even stay the night. He went wherever the road took him. Driving gave him freedom, the open road, nothing but you and the car. No traffic, no pesky speed cameras, just him and twelve cylinders working in perfect harmony, roaring away. Driving let him relax. Sometimes he did think that he should invite his secretary Mary along one weekend – the look of envy she gave him when she first saw his car was a fond memory. He had laughed so much when she asked him who owned the Aston that was parked to her own battered VW Beetle. Her reaction when he told her was priceless.

Although, the DB9, wasn't the only car he owned. There was a Bahamian registered left hand drive silver birch Aston Martin DB5 in a lock up in Hampstead that he won in a card game at the Ocean Club in the Bahamas. He had had it imported last winter for use in the summer. In the same lock up lay a wreck of the very same car but a right hand drive model with a few minor upgrades. It had been left a mangled heap of metal due to the incident at Skyfall but Bond hadn't the heart to have the thing crushed. Instead it served as a little memorial to the place and to the late M. He had of course transferred the registration (BMT 216A) to the Bahamian DB5.

When he arrived at Vauxhall just before nine, he had immediately checked his schedule with Mary, it was clear bar the meeting with 003 at eleven so Bond sat and did some paper work. Since he was away so rarely, M had given him some more administrative tasks which mostly consisted of reading intelligence reports from British agents around the world as well as liaise with friendly intelligence services – very different from fieldwork, of which he had no pressing desire to return to. M should have sacked him when Bond told him but he didn't, he merely reassigned him to deal with events at home rather than abroad. Most of the work wasn't memorable but occasionally there were some comic gems in the communiques such as the CIA station chief in Paris who ended up spilling a carafe of fine wine down the front of the French foreign minister at an embassy dinner. The minister took offence and stormed out, the station chief was left with diplomatic egg on his face and was quickly transferred to Buenos Aires.

* * *

So Bond was expecting a relatively quiet day at the office and was thinking of taking Mary out for lunch later once 003 had left for RAF Brize Norton for his flight to Oman in a C-130 and then onwards to Iraq in an unmarked helicopter. M had summoned him upstairs to talk about a possible opening as Six's station chief in Washington when the current holder retired in eighteen months. Mallory liked to plan ahead and liked smooth transitions – to which planning was key. Bond said he would think about it. His liking for administration had grown in the two years he had spent out of the field – although he continued to practise on the firing range and kept his fitness up. The Washington station was one of the jewels in the crown of British intelligence – the Americans may be spying on Britain but Britain was doing just the same to their own targets across the pond from the embassy in Washington. The Americans knew that they did the same thing, and not wanting to become hypocrites they let British surveillance continue uninterrupted – the Special Relationship did work, in some ways.

It was when he returned from M's office that their paths crossed once again. He was crossing the bullpen, about to invite Mary out to lunch when he found her talking to someone else. It was a woman. A familiar woman. Her dark brown hair brought up into a bun, her light brown eyes still accented by heavy, yet elegant make-up. Her appearance is very similar, almost identical to how she looked when they first met on the train to Montenegro – dressed in a black blouse with matching jacket and skirt with elegant black heels on her feet. She's carrying a large black handbag with gold fastenings. She looks older but still youthful. But she's not possible. She's dead.

But he thought he saw her at M's funeral. _Thought_ being the key word, it could have been anyone, he hadn't really been concentrating. He hadn't thought about her before the funeral or since – he had no regrets, maybe death was what she deserved. Anyway _"regret is unprofessional"._ He couldn't have regret in his line of work. Yet here she stood before him, talking to his secretary as if she was an old friend. Lunch with Mary would obviously have to wait.

* * *

"Oh, James, this woman says she knows you. From a long time ago, she's from the Treasury." Mary handed him the woman's card. It's near identical to the one the woman gave him in that railway carriage before dinner. And then he made a quip about her name…

"You better come in," Bond curtly gestured to his office door, the woman complied. "Don't ask how I know her, it was a very long time ago," he told Mary, "and have security on standby." Bond added quietly before following the woman into his office and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

_A/N: Please review, thanks for reading. Next chapter in the works._


	3. Chapter 2 - An Old Face

**Resurrection – Chapter 2 – An Old Face**

_A/N: …and here's chapter 2. Thanks to ThedaTheVamp for the lovely review._

* * *

_Vesper Lynd was sat in a chair in front of a desk in his office. Vesper Lynd the double agent, the traitor, the naïve young woman drawn into a high stakes game as an unwilling pawn. Vesper Lynd who had drowned in Venice seven years ago. But she's alive and it's impossible._

* * *

"I heard about M, I went to the funeral, saw you in fact, skulking at the back. I'm sorry she died, she sounded like a good boss, if not a little dictatorial." Vesper smiles slightly but the man across the desk is unreadable. But deep down, Bond smiles a little, _"…a little dictatorial."_ And an image appears in his mind of Tanner calling her the "evil queen of numbers" when he thought she wasn't listening. But to all intents and purposes, he remains cold, impassive. Playing a poker face, just like he did with Le Chiffre. He is unreadable to Vesper.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do. I've got half a mind to shoot you where you sit if it weren't for a bullpen of people outside. Another part of my mind tells me to hand you over to Mallory and see you tried for treason whereas another part tells me to let you explain yourself and then decide." Bond growled coldly.

"I thought you might say that." Vesper replied nervously, inwardly wincing at the thought of James shooting her where she sat. But she had every right to expect him to do it, after what had happened between them.

"So how, when you drowned in Venice seven years ago, are you sat there in front of me?"

"Well, as you can see I didn't die, I was still alive when you pulled me from the water. Barely alive, to the point where you thought I was dead. You let the Italians take me away, I was unconscious in hospital for a week after coming out of that canal. M was there you know, when I woke up."

"Was she?" he asked sarcastically, but Vesper ignored his comment and ploughed on.

"She said that you thought I was dead, and for all intents and purposes, to you I would remain so. With me being dead, there would be no chance of you looking for me unless you had the slightest suspicion of my survival. So I've been in plain sight for the past seven years, I'm still at the Treasury although I've moved up in the department. In fact, your office isn't too dissimilar to mine."

She glances around Bond's relatively spacious office. He's got a good view across the Thames to Millbank and the city north of the river ad out of the corner of her eye she can see Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. As for the office, it's well furnished, if not slightly stylish. There's a National Geographic Map of the World pinned to the wall next to a map of Britain. A couple of model cars are sat on his clutter free desk next to his stationary and computer. He's got a low wooden bookcase to one side of the room upon which stands a model of a Royal Navy ship and above which is a white ensign in a frame. The bookcase contains all sorts from Haynes Manuals to a complete six volume history of _The Second World War_ by Winston Churchill and _Birds of the West Indies_ by James Bond – Vesper can't help but smile at the fact that he owns a book written by a namesake of his. The chairs in the room are black leather and look very comfortable whereas the desk is walnut with a glass top. There's a large flat-screen television next to the flag, the remote for which is lying on the top of the bookshelf.

* * *

The silence in the room as Vesper's eyes roamed around the room was deafening to her ears. After a few minutes, James started to speak. "Why now, why after seven years do you choose to appear in my office? Let's go further," he chuckles humourlessly, "why go to all the trouble drowning yourself in the first place?" he leans forward, staring at her inquiringly although she knows the look on his face is masking the cold, dispassionate fury he feels when seeing her after so long.

"I had no reason to appear any earlier," Vesper replied, "I moved on, got on with my life. M told me about Yusef and I'm surprised that you didn't put a bullet in his brain – he deserved one though," she continued. "_And I expect you think I do too,"_ she thought sadly. "I did intend to die in Venice, it's just sheer dumb luck that I'm sat here in this office in front of you. I couldn't bear the guilt of betraying you and besides, you survived. I didn't want to distract you from your work. I would if you thought I had survived. You wouldn't look for me if I was dead. But then I saw you at the funeral, and I thought you saw me. So inevitably, I thought you'd ask questions so I asked to be transferred to New York to handle the Treasury's interests stateside. This is my first time back in London in eighteen months, I'm reporting to Whitehall later. But I saw your headquarters from across the river and I was curious, so I made an appointment with your secretary, she said you'd want to meet with me."

Bond was expression was still unreadable, although she could now detect a slight flicker of anger. She was still so bloody arrogant he thought. Breezing in as if nothing had ever happened, as if she was an old friend. As if there had been nothing between them. As if she was innocent of all blame levelled against her. After years of trying to forget her, it was just too much for him. Bond stormed from the room.

* * *

"She made an appointment?" he queried Mary after returning from the office water cooler.

"Yes, I thought you'd want to see her. She was in your file. Vesper Lynd – HM Treasury, worked with you on operations in Montenegro, died in Venice, although parts of that file were heavily redacted. She was dead until this morning according to our file on her so I thought you'd want to meet with her – a cross check with Whitehall showed her to be genuine." Mary replied, a little confused as to why Bond was so angry.

"You read my file?"

"Of course, I read it on my first day here, I wanted to know who I was working for. Don't worry, your darkest secrets are safe, most of the file is above my pay grade but I gleaned the basics," she tried to smile.

"Right, keep her in my office. Have Security detain her if she tries to leave. Tell Moneypenny I'm going back upstairs."

* * *

"Is he free?"

"You've just caught him, he was going out to lunch." Eve Moneypenny replied. Bond wordlessly entered M's office without knocking. M was sat behind his desk waiting.

"007, back so quickly! What can I do for you? Make it quick, Blades does an excellent salmon fishcake and I'm meeting my wife for lunch there in half an hour."

"I've got a question Sir."

"Well go on then."

"If someone who you had loved, who had betrayed you and your country and subsequently been 'brushed under the carpet' by the government of the day suddenly turned up in your office with an appointment and tried to explain his or herself, what would you do?"

"I guess that this has just happened to you?" M asked, slightly surprised that a Double-O had come to him asking, personally for advice.

"Yes. She's sat in my office now."

"Do you trust her?"

"Not anymore, but she saved my life twice and tried to kill herself out of guilt over her betrayal. I thought she was dead until this morning."

"She admits her betrayal?"

"She was working for the Treasury, we were together on an operation in Montenegro. But while working for us she was also working for a terrorist organisation called Quantum."

"Did she do this knowingly?"

"Yes, but unwillingly. They 'captured' her boyfriend who was also a Quantum operative and told her that they'd kill him if she didn't co-operate."

"Did my predecessor know about this?"

"She had a hand in 'rehabilitating' her I believe."

"What was the extent of her treachery?"

"She stole over $100 million from a Treasury bank account and gave it to Quantum in exchange for my life or so I'm told. We reclaimed the money later. I then watched her commit suicide in Venice but she obviously didn't die because she is sat in my office downstairs. She says that she's been hiding in plain sight for five of the past seven years. She was at M's funeral I saw her but I didn't believe it at the time. She was transferred to New York a short while later. This is her first time back in London, apparently she was curious about what time had done to me so made an appointment with my secretary."

"Do you know if she has any plans?"

"A meeting in Whitehall later at the Treasury."

"Walk with me," he led Bond out into Moneypenny's reception area. "What's the woman's name?"

"Lynd, Vesper."

"Eve, have the file for Vesper Lynd sent up here from Records, the paper version, if you please – you know how much I dislike using the computer database," he told his secretary. "And call somebody at the Treasury and have them cancel their appointment with Ms. Lynd, tell them that she has been taken ill."

"Well Bond, have you fully verified her story?"

"Not yet."

"Well my advice is to detain her. Interrogate her. Determine whether she is telling the whole truth and then we'll see where we stand."

"Very good Sir. I'll call to have her taken downstairs. Enjoy your salmon fishcake and my regards to your wife." Bond strode from the room.

* * *

"He's in a right state. This Lynd woman seems to have shaken him up." Eve remarked as Bond disappeared into the lifts.

"No he's had a shock, that's all. Something tells me that somebody once got to his heart and then tore it to shreds. He's just reliving it." Mallory replied. "Anyway, have those files sent up, I'll be back in two hours."

"Say hello to Jennifer for me."

"I will." Jennifer Mallory – M's wife – and Eve Moneypenny had become good friends over the past two years which helped seeing as Jennifer wanted Eve to keep an eye on her husband.

* * *

Bond re-entered the Double-O bull pen with two burly looking security officers trailing him. Both were ex-Royal Marines who saw their current job as 'rather cushy'. "Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to escort Ms. Lynd downstairs to the Interrogation Suite. Be nice, give her lunch and something to drink. I'll be back after lunch." Bond ordered.

"Right away Sir," one of the guards replied as they crossed the bullpen.

"Mary? Spot of lunch?" he asked his secretary.

"Only if you explain what's just happened. Interrogation Suite sounds a little harsh for someone like her," Mary glanced towards the office door. "She seemed harmless, if not a little vulnerable."

"And that is exactly why she is so dangerous. I'll explain how over lunch," Bond replied. "Are you coming?"

"Let me get my bag." They were gone by the time the two guards reappeared in the bullpen, Vesper between them.

"This way if you please Ms. Lynd," gestured one of them. Vesper was hardly surprised.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review._


	4. Chapter 3 -Cocktails and Confusion

**Resurrection – Chapter 3 – Cocktails and Confusion**

_A/N: …and here is Chapter 3. Thanks to ThedatheVamp for her reviews._

* * *

"So where are we going?" Mary asked as Bond put the Aston into gear.

"A little riverside restaurant near Tower Bridge," came the reply. Mary sat back and relaxed in the cream leather passenger seat. How she envied James…the Aston was a thousand times better than her Beetle.

Bond pulled up to a red light in the lunch time traffic. "So who was she?"

"Vesper Lynd, HM Treasury Financial Action Task Force Liaison and double agent for the terrorist group that was known as Quantum. We were together on operations in Montenegro. A high stakes poker games against a banker who funded the world's terrorists, over a hundred million dollars in the prize pot. I won." The lights changed to green and the DB9 purred as they crossed the Thames. "Afterwards we quite simply fell in love, I was on the verge of leaving the service. And then Quantum got back in touch, she didn't tell me about her affiliation with them. They had her steal the money and deposit it in a Quantum bank account or they'd execute her 'boyfriend' who was also a Quantum operative. She was an unwilling pawn in their game but complied nonetheless. I realised, followed her to this dilapidated mansion on a Venetian canal. There was a firefight, she got trapped inside an elevator and the building collapsed, sank into the canal. I tried to get her out but she pulled away from me, by the time I pulled her from the water it was too late, or at least I thought it was too late. So I was left with her lifeless body in my arms."

"How did she survive?"

"By not dying. If you are that interested I'll give you the file on the whole sorry business for you to peruse at your leisure." Bond smiled slightly. "And how are you today?"

"Confused."

"Why?"

"If you were sorry that she died, if you loved her then why the hell would you be unhappy to see her? You flipped out."

"Because she died, she chose death and not me."

"So why don't you appear happy at the fact that she is alive and has come back?" as the Aston cruised through central London.

"Because she was disloyal. She betrayed her country. She betrayed her government. She betrayed me. She got in too deep. She might as well have defected. And to top it all, she's been alive for seven years after I watched her die in Venice and not once did anyone tell me anything. M knew everything, she just went back to her job in Whitehall as if nothing had happened. For someone rather bright she was awfully stupid. I usually don't have time for the memory of traitors. It leaves a bitter aftertaste."

"Did you really love her?"

"Yes, right up to the end. Then I discovered the full extent of her treachery and I banished the memory. I've got no time to regret. She didn't deserve to be mourned," Bond said simply. He looked over at his blonde companion. Mary Goodnight was a very pretty and he thought that for any man she would be a 'good catch'. She looked a little like Nicole Kidman but a decade younger. She was frowning slightly. They rode on in silence.

"If you loved her, why can't you forgive her for what she has done? I think she must have had her reasons," she said after breaking the silence.

"I'm working on it. Her sudden return from the dead was really unexpected. It's made me think about what happened seven years ago all over again."

"And you only had the one appointment today…." Mary remarked in jest.

"Funny how things turn out. Bond replied. "We're here." Bond pulled into a parking space at the side of the road and brought the Aston to a halt. "I'm told they have a good bar, I'll pay."

* * *

James and Mary took a table outside on the glass walled riverside terrace in the sunshine. "Good afternoon Sir, madam. Welcome to our restaurant. Before I take your orders for lunch would you like something to drink?" the waiter asked as he handed them each a menu with the wine list.

"I'll have a glass of orange juice with lemonade." Mary replied.

"Ice?"

"Yes please."

"It says here you do bespoke cocktails in which case I'll have the following: three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it?" Bond ordered.

"Certainly sir. Would you like to order lunch now or wait for your drinks?"

"We'll wait." Bond replied.

After the waiter had left, Mary hissed across the table; "You're driving. It's really too early to be drinking."

"After what's happened so far today, I need a drink, a large one." Bond retorted. "I haven't had one in a long time." Although the second he had placed the order, he realised that he had subconsciously ordered a Vesper Martini. The drink was of his own creation. He remembered naming it.

"…_I think I'll call that a 'Vesper'"_

"_Because of the bitter aftertaste?"_

"_No because once you've tasted it, it's all you want to drink."_

It kind of summed up his relationship with her. One he met her, she was the only woman he had wanted to be with. Then she died.

"And what do you call today?" Mary asked.

* * *

"Shocking," was the blunt reply.

His phone bleeped in his pocket, it was a text from M:

_After our brief discussion, I think the situation is of a more personal nature than a professional one. The Service couldn't really care what happened to Vesper Lynd, her case is closed. You obviously have the bit between your teeth so sort it out. Whatever it is, it's between you and her, as far as the Service is concerned her case is closed. – M_

Bond was coming to the end of his dessert; Eton mess and it's shards of meringue embedded within the pudding. His drink was still half full, the lemon peel dangling on the side. Mary was nearly finished with her meal. As he finished, Bond threw back the remainder of the martini, leaving the lemon peel at the bottom of the glass.

Bond paid the bill and they walked out into the sunshine. It was then that Mary decided to ask a bold question, she was still trying to understand the situation and besides, James had been in a state ever since Vesper walked through the door. So once Bond settled himself in the driver's seat of the Aston she decided to voice her question;

"Do you still love her?"

"I loved the woman I knew, now I don't know what to think of her. If she is the same woman I met on the train to Montenegro then I do. If she isn't, well then I don't think I know her."

"Well I think if you still love her, the Interrogation Suite is overly harsh. If you don't then it's perfectly justified but I think in coming to you, I think she wants you and I think that deep down you know that," his blonde secretary replied. Mary knew that the minute she asked about his love life that she had overstepped her professional boundaries. Mary didn't care, she thought it was for Bond's own good. Their journey continued in silence as Bond just let her comment hang in the air.

Bond's brain was doing two things, focusing on the road and thinking about how to deal with Vesper. M had been clear; "…sort it out…it's personal…to us her case is closed." Mary had been trying to give him some advice. And Vesper had just sat there, trying to explain herself and there he was sat. Bewildered. What could he do?

* * *

As Bond saw it he had a range of options. He could forgive her. They could start over, forgive the past. Forget the past even. But he didn't know if he trusted her, was she trustworthy? There was evidence both for and against her. She had saved his life, twice. She was genuine to him right up until the end when Quantum decided to show their hand. But then she had betrayed him, but he'd overlooked it, he still loved her he decided. He had tried and succeeded in avenging her and then he closed her case.

But today her case was flung open again.

He could either forgive her or he could throw her out. Throw her out of his life. She would probably go back to New York and their paths would probably never cross again. But then she would inevitably come back, just like she had today. Come back to taunt him.

But if he forgave her, did he really want her in his life?

He was perfectly happy to have her all those years ago. Before Quantum reared its ugly head. He even resigned the service to be with her. But at the time he hadn't really thought of the future. What could he do outside MI6? He'd never been so attached to someone before. He'd never had any thoughts about family, he didn't have any real friends; M, Q, Tanner, Mary, Eve – they were colleagues. Maybe Kincade could fall into the category of 'friend', but he'd only once seen him in two decades. He'd never had a soul mate, a special somebody, a person he loved like he had loved Vesper.

And his heart wanted to love her again.

* * *

_A/N: …please review. I think there might be one more chapter after this, depending on responses from reviews that is but I'm open to producing more in the same universe._


	5. Chapter 4 - Files and Forgiveness

**Resurrection – Chapter 4 – Files and Forgiveness**

_A/N: …yet another chapter. Enjoy! Thanks goes to ThedaTheVamp, Clara-Lis and BringerOfJoy for the kind reviews!_

* * *

James and Mary parted ways in the atrium of MI6 Headquarters in Vauxhall Cross. Mary went back up to the bull pen on the seventh floor while Bond took another lift down to the basement level interrogation suite. Eve was waiting for him.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Reminding you that M says that this situation between you and Ms. Lynd is personal, the Service has no professional or legal concern in her. Besides, if the public found out that we nearly let $100 million fall into the hands of terrorists over a simple mistake we'd be a laughing stock. MI6 would be finished."

"So in other words; be nice, sort out your business and get her out of the building ASAP?"

"The short story, yes."

"Sounds like M." Bond replied curtly. "Where have they put her?"

"Room Eight." Eve said. "Good luck." She left without a word.

* * *

Bond watched her through the one-way glass. Vesper was reading a file, her bag on the table along with the remains of lunch on a paper plate. The naked fluorescent tube glared down onto the flimsy aluminium furniture and grey concrete walls. Bond's phone bleeped in his pocket once again, a text from Moneypenny attached was a digital copy of Vesper's file:

**VESPER LYND**

_CURRENT STATUS:_ HM Treasury Financial Action Task Force, US Chief Liaison

_HISTORY: _Born June 5th 1980, Paris, France to Alexander Lynd and Valerie Lynd (formerly Bellecour). Parents died in Europa Airlines Flight 294 crash over the Alps on January 17th 1984. Lynd sent to live with paternal grandmother Cora Lynd in London. Exceedingly bright at school, leaving with 11 GCSEs at A/A* and 4 A-Levels at A*. Studies for a BA in Economics at the London School of Economics (1999-2002). Recruited by HM Treasury, joining the Financial Action Task Force in 2003.

Relationship with Yusef Mahmoud – Quantum operative (2005-2006). Lynd turns double agent for the Quantum organisation after Yusef is 'captured' by them. In reality it was blackmail and Lynd had been unwittingly coerced.

Posted with MI6 Agent 007, to Montenegro in charge of the $15 million given to 007 to defeat the noted terrorist banker known as 'Le Chiffre' in a high-stakes poker game. 007 wins the game. Lynd and 007 are consequentially captured by 'Le Chiffre' who is later assassinated by Quantum operative known as 'Mr White'. 007 developed affections for Lynd and nearly resigns the service. Quantum catch up with Lynd in Venice and she gives them the $100 million. 007 discovered her betrayal and in the resulting gun-battle Lynd was trapped in a lift. The building they were in collapsed and she nearly drowns while trying to commit suicide. _(Out of love for 007, she couldn't live with the guilt – M. 06-08-2006) _– Bond read the handwritten side note in M's typically neat hand.

Survived her ordeal and continued her work with the Treasury. Posted to US Consulate, New York (October 2012) as US Liaison for HM Treasury. Promoted to Chief US Liaison June 2013.

_NOTES:_ Imperative that Agent 007 doesn't discover Lynd's survival through us. 007 thinks she is dead. – M. 21-08-06

* * *

"_Imperative that Agent 007 doesn't discover Lynd's survival…doesn't discover…survival…out of love for 007…couldn't live with the guilt…doesn't discover Lynd's survival through us…through us…imperative…survival…" _The words on the screen were repeating in his mind. M knew all along and was prepared to keep the truth from him. But obviously didn't care if he found the truth elsewhere – at least that's what he thought she meant by saying "through us." But he was sobered by M's handwritten annotation – "Out of love for 007, she couldn't live with the guilt." Maybe M did have a heart after all? To understand love and sacrifice – two things often found together – in his case sacrifice for love.

Now here Vesper was sat, quietly reading a file in the harsh light. He could see the title from where he was stood – "UK Business Growth in the USA, 1st Quarter 2013". It looked boring Bond thought but he watched as Vesper casually flipped the pages for several minutes, occasionally taking a sip of water from the glass on the table.

* * *

After nearly a quarter of an hour, Vesper came to the end of the report. It had been quite dull when compared to the events of the rest of the day but she would have had to read the blasted thing anyway. Now seemed a good a time as ever because it took her mind off things. She didn't know which she was more worried about, James Bond or the fact that she was in an interrogation room in the basement of Vauxhall Cross when she was supposed to be in a meeting with Treasury bosses in Whitehall. Her job or her feelings for 007?

She looked over at the black glass panel on the wall across from her and wondered if she was being watched. She knew that the glass was only one way, she could be watched and not see the watchers. Maybe James was in the room next door, watching, thinking about what to do. She had to hand it to him, at least he was a man who could think – an ex-SAS type with an expensive watch and a brain, not an ex-SAS type with an expensive watch and whose intelligence was a joke.

As if on cue a voice came over the intercom, it was Bond but he was slightly mocking in his tone – _"UK Business Growth in the USA, 1__st__ Quarter 2013? Sounds quite dull."_

"It is James, but then I had to read it at some point anyway. I work for the Treasury in New York so it's to be expected."

"_Why did you come back to London?"_

"I had a meeting in Whitehall and when I passed through Vauxhall this morning I became curious. Your name and codename seem to still work so I made an appointment with your secretary."

"_Why now?"_

"I was in the area?"

"_Why not stay dead?"_

"I didn't die."

"_I thought you died."_

"I can't help that, I was ordered not to contact you."

"_So after all of it, Montenegro, Switzerland, Venice, you just went back to work? Did just go into a Whitehall office at 9am the morning you returned and have your boss ask how 'your holiday was' followed by an 'it was fine, anything major happen whilst I was away?'"_

"M had a saying, do you know what it was?"

"_Enlighten me…"_

"Regret is unprofessional, I didn't question her. Of course I thought about you, then I saw you at the funeral and I knew I had to move on. For both our sakes."

"_Why change your mind?"_

"I was told to come back, one thing led to another and we end up as we are right now."

"_You know the Service doesn't care about you."_

"Well considering that nobody stopped me in the atrium downstairs, I guess not."

"_M told me that this was a personal matter."_

"Obviously."

"_A personal matter that was mine to sort out."_

"And how are you going to do that?"

"_I don't know."_ Vesper didn't reply. She didn't know if James was still watching her. So she sat and thought for a moment.

"James?"

"_Yes."_

"For what it's worth, and it's probably worth nothing to you but I'll say it anyway, I still think that if all that was left of you was your little finger and your smile, I'd still love you then."

"_You still love me?"_

"Yes." A tear came to her eye. Bond hadn't expected that.

"_Despite the fact that you betrayed the Treasury, the country. You betrayed me."_ Vesper flinched.

"I did it for your sake. Not mine. And I still love you, even if you hate me for it. I'm sure that you can see it was for the best. And if you can't, then I'm just a complicated woman."

Bond thought about that for a minute. He smiled thinly at the "complicated woman" comment. She was complicated, an enigma to him still.

Although truth be told, he did love her for it. Unlike some, Vesper could actually provide companionship. She was intelligent, witty, funny and charming. He felt they matched. She played hard to get and Bond got her.

* * *

Vesper had returned. Returned to him. Unless he was an idiot, he should take the opportunity with both hands.

Bond wasn't stupid. Vesper was genuine. Bond silently opened the door to the interview room, it was opposite the window he had been looking through before. Vesper didn't hear him. So he watched her for a moment. She was sat, staring sadly at the glass. She was beautiful. Even if she was upset.

Bond quietly took the seat opposite her. "You're right," Bond said, "you are a complicated woman. And I've got no armour, nothing against that."

Bond rose from his seat. "Come here." And James hugged her. And they stood there for quite some time, Vesper sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

"I don't deserve you," she croaked.

"No, but then I deserve you even less." Bond replied as if in a trance.

"I'm sorry, sorry about what happened last time, Quantum, Venice, Yusef, all of it."

"I know you are. And as much as it pains me to say it, I forgive you."

"…_forgive you…forgive you…forgive you…"_ the words echoed in Vesper's mind and she beamed.

* * *

_A/N: Now conceivably, this could be ended right here. But I think there is more to tell, more chapters to write so I can tell you that there will be more! Please review, follow and favourite!_


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